


On Naps and How Soon They Should Be Taken

by imma_redshirt



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Short One Shot, Vulcan Kisses, stubborn doctors, this got way cornier than i thought it would get i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imma_redshirt/pseuds/imma_redshirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy needs to rest. Spock needs to convince him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Naps and How Soon They Should Be Taken

**Author's Note:**

> For sleepymccoy, who asked for nice sponesy things to relax to while on a car trip. Hope this helps!

“Bridge.”

The doors of the turbolift slid shut. McCoy leaned back against the wall and rolled his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut against the pain of aching, stiff muscles, and the early signs of what promised to be a killer headache. He hadn’t had a chance to rest since the eight hour away mission that had lead to four more hours in the lab, and another hour writing up his report. Eight hours was by no means a stretch for experienced medical personnel, but six of those eight hours on the planet below had been spent trekking up and down hills and valleys, dodging the local, hungry wildlife, almost falling into a hidden sinkhole, cursing the hidden sinkhole, and stabbing various members of the away team with hypos, including repeated offenses against a certain Starfleet captain. 

What McCoy needed was a short glass of bourbon and a long nap. And he was going to get just that, right after meeting with Jim, heading back to Medbay to check up on his patients, and if Chapel hadn’t chased him out by then, he’d try to get some paperwork out of the way. 

The turbolift came to a stop. Too soon for the bridge, McCoy thought, and straightened himself before whoever entered could see their CMO folding under exhaustion like a newbie medical student. 

“Don’t mind me,” he said, bouncing in place with energy he didn’t feel, eyes still closed. “Just an old doctor tryin’ to--”

The doors shut. Before McCoy could open his eyes, someone took a hold of his hands, thumbs pressing into the center of his palms, and tugged him forward.

“Well, ‘bout time you came along,” he said, opening one eye and meeting Spock’s steady gaze. “Haven’t seen you since beam up. How are you feeling?”

Spock, who had suffered a mild leg wound during the mission, arched one slender eyebrow. “I am well, Leonard. Doctor Sanchez saw to my injury. You, however, seem to still be experiencing pain. Have you rested since the mission?”

McCoy shrugged a shoulder and curled his fingers around Spock’s. “Not yet. I’m tired is all. Got a bit of a headache coming on, but a nap’ll take care of that just fine.” 

“And how soon do you plan to take this nap?” Spock asked. “Before or after meeting with the Captain and busying yourself in Medbay?”

McCoy frowned. Either his thoughts were so loud that the Vulcan could read them through his hands without even performing a mindmeld, or McCoy was just that predictable. Either way, he was annoyed.

“I’ll get to it when I get to it,” he said, tugging a hand from Spock’s hold. “And you’re the last person who should get on my case for working before rest--!”

“I only ask,” Spock began, cutting off McCoy’s building rant. “Because I am currently off shift.” 

He pressed index and middle finger against McCoy’s, softly then firmly, running his fingertips up the back of McCoy’s hand and along his wrist. McCoy shivered. 

“As you know, Vulcans do not require the sleep that humans do,” Spock continued, brown eyes catching McCoy’s gaze. “But they are not averse to it if they have the warmth of a human sharing their bed. We are also quite adept at alleviating certain aches and pains.”

“That so?” McCoy muttered, tracing his finger across Spock’s open palm and feeling a thrill when he felt a tiny shiver run through the Vulcan. “And just how do Vulcans do that? Fancy mind tricks?”

Spock twitched an eyebrow in what McCoy had long ago learned to be a very subtle Vulcan smirk.

“I believe you are well aware of the various ‘tricks’ I may practice upon weary doctors.” Suddenly, the Vulcan smirk was gone, and the familiar Serious Vulcan Face was back. “I would prefer you rest as soon as possible, Leonard. Your exhaustion is quite evident, even to those who do not practice telepathy.”

McCoy bit his lip, Spock’s solemness catching, then leaned forward with a response on the tip of his tongue when the lift came to a stop and the doors slid open. Two chatting ensigns walked in.

“Either way doctor,” Spock said, releasing McCoy’s hands and backing away. “I await your reply.”

Without another word, he turned and left, the doors shutting right behind him.

“So how did the report go?” One ensign asked the other, but McCoy was in no state of mind to hear the reply. 

He really was exhausted, and Spock’s abrupt absence only made him wearier. Why bother Jim, or butt his head into Medbay when Sanchez and Chapel had everything under control? And paperwork? Paperwork could damn well wait.

The doors slid open. He stepped out and headed straight for Spock’s room, where a warm Vulcan waited with deft hands and much needed respite from a long day.


End file.
